Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from South Sudan and from Spokane.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Mistral show in Amsterdam.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1967 to 1976.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Mexico City and Johannesburg.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Delhi kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the arpeggiator sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Jacques Brel to the rock kids.
I played it at the Spitz.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by The Sisters of Mercy. All the underground hits.
All Soul II Soul tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Saccharine Trust record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a guitar and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Joey Negro record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your chamberlin and bought a linndrum.
I hear that you and your band have sold your linndrum and bought a chamberlin.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Sparks,
Charles Mingus,
Robert Wyatt,
Faust,
Khruangbin,
Avey Tare,
Saccharine Trust,
Gang Green,
Crime,
Pet Shop Boys,
Half Japanese,
Pharaoh Sanders and the Fire Engines,
Joyce Sims,
Arab on Radar,
Electric Light Orchestra,
Slave,
The Pretty Things,
The Blackbyrds,
Gong,
the Fania All-Stars,
Fort Wilson Riot,
The Wake,
Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade,
The Move,
Tubeway Army,
Funky Four + One,
Pierre Henry,
The Mummies,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
L. Decosne,
MC5,
Pantytec,
Bootsy Collins,
The Durutti Column,
Darondo,
China Crisis,
Jimmy McGriff,
John Coltrane,
The Raincoats,
UT,
the Human League,
Girls At Our Best!,
the Sonics,
Shoche,
Gregory Isaacs,
The Kinks,
Isaac Hayes,
The Fortunes,
Lebanon Hanover,
Man Eating Sloth,
Motorama,
Dorothy Ashby,
Wire,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Erykah Badu,
E-Dancer,
Strawberry Alarm Clock,
Vladislav Delay,
The Star Department,
Silicon Teens,
Section 25, Section 25, Section 25, Section 25.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.